She Is The Spring

The day ascended coldly, laced with frost,
And soon a threadbare dawn showed what was lost
Upon that morning, shrouded in the haze
Of no tomorrows, only yesterdays.
But who may question why a single life—
A loving mother, daughter, sister, wife—
Has reached conclusion, like a season’s end?
“Too soon!” we cry, but as horizons bend
We see the heart of God, and light’s rebirth,
Unfold in color on a waiting earth,
Postponing winter for the brief displays
Of her effect on us, like April days—
Strawberry hair and alabaster skin
Exuding freshness, and a soul within
That beamed unfailingly through vivid eyes
Of brilliant blue, recalling spotless skies.
The sun will part those clouds in time, my friends,
For Spring awaits us all, as Winter ends.

David Nelson Bradsher
February 17, 2006

Written in memory of:
Kimberly Joyce Smothers Dawson
November 16, 1966- February 13, 2006


"How do people make it through life without a sister?"Sara Corpening